Vermin Species

Log Info

• Title: Vermin Species
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Elyanna
• Place: A13: Alexandrian Gates
• Time: Sunday, August 02, 2020, 11:46 PM
• Summary: Elyanna arrives at the gatehouse too late to leave with her party, but in time to see the sergent leaving. She trails him and strikes up a conversation. It takes some effort to get the old guard to spill what he's been hiding, which includes a sympathy for the kobold prisoner. The two discuss the variable definition of 'vermin species' and the kinds of men who find advantage in that classification. Udgar finally reveals that the Trygve is using the adventurers to get himself a masterwork weapon, that it came to his attention the kobolds had it, but the sergent has no idea how they came by it or the best way forward. Only that everyone involved is lying and keeping secrets.

=--=--=--=--=<* A13: Alexandrian Gates, Eldwyn Road, Guardhouse *>-=--=--=--=-

The northern gate of Alexandria stands grand. The city's northern portal to the outside world, is tall, rugged, crafted from works of the arcane over generations. The city wall around it glows with manalights and is outfitted with the latest defenses. These gates stand larger than any man, and visitors passing beneath will travel by a pair of guard houses as well as towers, situated to either side. They open wide for caravans, from nearby farmlands and far off countries. To the west, lies the river. To the east, the rising mountains of the Redridge, which Alexandria emerges from like an artful outcropping.

Around the gates are a number of inns and taverns, ready to serve visitors to the Lord's City. These businesses show the eclectic mix that is Alexandria, with its mix of flavors, colors, and spices. Airships fly overhead, and towers oversee the pace of traffic into and out of the Lord's City while the statue of the Burning Phoenix overlooks it all. Beyond them lies the upper Gardens District.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

It's late morning, very late.

The group had arranged to meet at first light, and it's long past that. It's rolling around to the time when the first travelling caravans start rolling in. All the shops and inns clustered around the gatehousees are open and bustling, and the streets are full of eclectic wanderers. Business, browsers and buskers, it's gotten crowded and moving through the crowd is slow going.

Moving away from the gatehouse is a cloaked and armoured figure in a well-worn hat. At first glance he's just another sell-sword. At a second, to someone who perhaps spent time with him yesterday, he's a gate guard somewhat out of uniform.

Also, his face is a rusty, iodine brown and full of scratches.

A tan cloaked figure, caught up in various things, remains behind for the time being to handle a possible loose end. Finding the man took some doing, then surrepitously milling about in hopes of catching the an apart from his station. Elyanna, outline somewhat the bulkier for the extra shroud, keeps her face somewhat downcast in the hood as she drifts along what would be an arcing, intercepting course.

Udgar has replaced his helmet with a hat, his armoured boots and sabatons for a regular pair. It's all covered by a long, tan cloak. There's a short sword on his belt, and he carries an empty sack. This is enough to hide his status as a guard. A simple disguise to get home with, where the rest of his armour can be removed. Unlikely he'll need it anyhow, in the event he's called out in the middle of the night, his armoured winter boots and helmet will do. All the gear is too heavy to wear for the walk home, and it doesn't help with the battles with the missus. He looks in the sack and takes out a shopping list, tiredly attempting to clear it and stave off an even worse reaction for his late arrival. He's exchanging some coin for some lettuce, and oblivious to the world.

Not a hundred percent sure how she should proceed at this, particularly given her previous lifestyle, Elyanna seems content to let the man shop in some peace just yet, trailing off on her pace. Once he gets some distance from the vendor, she'll close alongside him, ideally, before he commits to another stall.

"S'cuse me," Udgar says automatically, crowded by a presence but not really taking details in. He sounds tired, he looks tired. He smells like someone who stood in the hot sun all day, then spent a clammy night awake in the cells, not good. Finally he looks over, his scratched up face pulls on a stone-like expression, "Oh, Hello. Your group left, you'll have to speak with the lieutennant. I'm not involved."

"I know." Elyanna replies in a distant tone, "Which is why I am here." volume low, yet above a whisper. As usual, she keeps her movements small to spare undue baring of what lay beneath her cloak, though there is a subtle sheen of her ruddy skin that decries her level of comfort for her precaution.

Udgar looks at her, taking in that tone, evaluating based on a lifetime of interacting with people who often are concealing things from him. His expression doesn't change, his voice is still a cautious disinterest. "I see. Guards who cross the lieutennant don't do well. The gate is a cushy assignment, prestigious, has perks. Why would I say anything critical of my commander to a random stranger?"

"So it seems." the red one rpelies softly, "So I will not be long." Her eyes are hard, gears turning within their depths, though her voice is, at best distant, rather than hostile, "In time, you may be called upon to listen to one." A pause, then, "The subjects may be... actionable." At that last word her eyebrow arches, but she waits for something before saying anything more.

"I listen to a lot of things. And I'll believe it when I see it." Udgar says, still expressionless, still non-committal, "Problems for the Lieutennant have a way of going away, becoming other people's problems. He's very trustworthy, don't you know, well liked by everyone who obeys his orders. No complaints at all."

He repeats, his voice trailing off, "No complaints at all..." He changes the subject, gracelessly, "Excuse my curiosity, you're a half-orc? I'm not sure, I usually am."

"No." Elyanna replies quietly, "I am half-human, if that gives you comfort." her language still formal, if given to a foreign accent. There is the beginings of a frown, then, "I caught such airs from him. Truly, an example for the ages."

"I was only curious. The lieutennant... sounds just like my grandfather." Udgar says, his voice even, "A great ass of a man. 'Never trust an Orc', 'They're vermin species'. Great men of the ages."

He shrugs, transfers his bag from hand to the other, "I'm not much improved. Used to play 'Guards and Goblins' when I was a lad. Dream of being a Goblin Slayer, then hobgoblin, orc, lizardman, giant. Work through all the vermin species, become a dragon slayer. Great hero. Then you grow up, wise up, and well everyone is people now. Which is better, no mistake. Except kobolds, still vermin, great for him."

The red woman nods, eyes lowering a moment, then, "I find more in common here, than I was led to expect." she says quietly, looking around, then back to him. A wry smile, baring interlocked predator's teeth, then, "There is a place where the vermin species is 'human'. A place I turned away from to what I wished was a better one." There is a little rise-fall under the cloak, a shrug, then, "Your handling of that kobald was not for one considered vermin." This, she says at a whisper, "I want to trust such a human."

Udgar shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable. "I've been ordered not to talk to your group about the prisoner." He doesn't sound committed to the words, and he's gazing at those predator teeth and there's a lot of things lacking in that look. Fear, mistrust, suspicion, hatred, those are absent. Perhaps he needs to work himself around to it, perhaps there are things on his mind he's wanted to confess, but had no idea who to take as a confidant.

"I became a guard because I liked the arms and discipline, and the idea of protecting people. Maybe there would be a good war, and in the meantime, a steady paycheck. I expected, people, would be what I would face. Except it hasn't been that lately. A lot of guards died to that giant ooze, to the vampire, at the soldier's defense. Some of them I liked. Makes me wonder, what I'm protecting, what I'm really supposed to fight. I didn't sign on to execute kids."

"And he is a kid. Not because he's small, because he's young. A stupid kid, in with a bad crowd, following an evil god because that's what everyone else does, and it's so stacked again him he doesn't have a chance." Udgar rubs at his face, which opens one of the scratches, and he ends up dabbing it with his shopping list. "I don't even know what the right thing to do is. It'd be a risk to turn my back with a knife in the room, let him go he might manage to murder someone. He's more stupid than evil, and don't get me wrong, some stupid people are capable of great evils, but him... he's caught up in something and it will get him killed."

"I could only save so many when the ice queen came." the red woman says, some genuine regret touching her eyes, "We do not always face the enemy we wish. Sometimes we can do something right, something to balance the scales... and so we must continue to strive for just that chance." She frowns, but doesn't make any move to touch him, to reassure him but to say, "I know his plight. You know the timbre of my words and what it means."

Udgar reaches his decision, continues to hold his gaze on her. "Thank you for your efforts. Ten-day ago a caravan came in, said kobolds had held them up with a thunderbelcher and demanded a toll. They said they told the kobolds they didn't have the paper to collect a toll, gritted up, rolled past expecting to be shot. The kobolds watched them roll by."

"The lieutennant overhears, and all he hears, is that there's a thunderbelcher out there. He orders no one to speak of it, nothing to be put in the log, he's going to take care of it. Probably save them blowing themselves up. Goes out with a heavy crossbow. Our best heavy crossbow. Comes back a couple days later, no crossbow, won't say what happened."

"Now I have no doubt the smart ones, they know what they're up to, they know they're pulling a scam. And the Lieutennant figured they would be push-overs, and they weren't. Match made in Heaven, and dirty all the way down. He's using your group to get himself a cheap thunderbelcher, iff'n you don't end up keeping it yourself. Bet there are a dozen speculative 'I lost my thunderbelcher' claims at the central station. 'Specially after word gets out."

Elyanna actually bows her head to the man for a moment or two, then straightens to regard him, "Should we meet with success, how would one best proceed, then?" Here, she's a little murky on the finer details... she knows how she would handle things in Bludgun, but Alexandria claims to play by different rules, best not to go in blind.

Udgar sighs, looking down, "I don't know. If I could talk to him, I'd tell him to be better. Don't know what I'd tell the ones with the gun. Depends who really owns it, I guess. It's the big shiny everyone wants, and I have no doubt those kobolds will die before they let go of it. Without it, they're just vermin again."

He touches at his face, checking his fingers. "His name is Trak, he's male, Ichtacka said. Trak tried to kill himself last night. Or got so panicked he nearly hung himself on the bars. That's all he'd tell me, but they talked."

Then a yawn comes, and he covers his mouth, which is full of blunt, worn down teeth which don't interlock. "It's been a long night. I can't say who above Trygve you can trust. Ooze left a lot of vacancies, and ... great men like him, have a way of finding each other. There's a chain, and the lieutennant doesn't want to be a gate lieutennant for the rest of his life. He's got plans, people help him, they'll go far too."

"You help him... well, you know what it will cost."

"I do." Elyanna replies gently, then looks to the sky for a moment, "I should make haste. Perhaps there is a way to spare undue bloodshed... and sever unworthy ambition from fulfillment." Her stride slackens some and softly ammends, "May the Mother keep you." as she allows him to outpace her.

The old sergent raises a hand in farewell, vanishes into the crowd to complete his shopping, journey home, and to bed, where hopefully bad dreams won't reach, and bad thoughts won't keep him up.